Don't Ask, Don't Spell
by Phoenix Donovan
Summary: ONE SHOT. Ron is upset because he's the only virgin left of the Weasleys, and Harry offers to help him out in that department. After all, what are best friends for? HarryRon.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Don't Ask, Don't Spell**

"What's wrong, Ron?" Harry asked his friend. Ron Weasley's eyes were a duller blue than usual, and he slumped over in a chair, fingers dug into his fiery hair. He peered up as Harry approached, his thin lips wrought into a frown.

"Ugh," Ron groaned. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, crossing his arms.

"Seriously, Harry," Ron said, glancing up at Harry, his face winced in proof of some inner torment. Whatever it was, Harry knew that his friend wasn't up to talking about it right now.

"Okay," he said. "I believe you."

But of course Harry didn't believe him, and Ron knew it. Ron hadn't looked this disconcerted since one Christmas when Fred had eaten all of his Mince Pie. For the next couple of days, Harry tried to ignore Ron's gloomy mood, but even Hermione had caught on: "Honestly, Ron! I've never seen anyone act as melancholy as you! Even Myrtle!"

On the fifth day of Ron's anonymous mourning, Harry finally decided to get down to the bottom of the problem—not just to help his friend, but because it was bloody annoying having to deal with his mood. He cornered him by the fireplace in the common room, where Ron was sitting alone due to his snapping at anyone who tried to get near him.

"Hey," Harry said, sitting down across from his ginger-haired friend. Ron's head snapped up, his eyes momentarily furious.

"What do you—oh, sorry Harry," he said, his expression changing from anger to sadness when he found that it was Harry. "I suppose you've come to hassle me." Ron frowned and rested his head in his palm. His red hair was scruffy and hung over his face.

"What's going on?" Harry asked quietly. Ron sighed.

"I want to tell you Harry, I know I've been a bit unpleasant lately…" Ron said.

"That's an understatement."

"I just can't tell you. It's so embarrassing."

Harry laughed and Ron glared at him. "Oh come on, Ron, I'm your best mate."

"I know that, Harry…"

"So out with it! It can't be that bad, can it?"

Ron bit his lip as if he were thinking on whether or not he should reveal the reason for his sadness. He finally gave in, taking a deep breath and looking up at Harry shyly.

"Did you know that…well, Ginny said…I've been getting a hard time about…"

"About what?"

Ron motioned for Harry to lean in, and whispered, "I'm the only virgin left of the Weasleys."

Harry lowered his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Ron groaned. "Bill and Charlie are both in their mid-twenties, so you know they've done it, and Bill has Fleur anyway, lucky git. And Percy did it with Penelope Clearwater a few years back—"

"Ew, Percy!" Harry exclaimed, not able to help himself.

"I know," Ron said, grimacing. "That strange bloke got laid and I haven't."

Harry shuddered.

"And then there's Fred and George," he continued, lowering his voice even more so that the twins wouldn't hear him from across the room.

"Enough said," Harry commented."

"Right. And now Ginny's done it with Dean, and she's giving me a hard time because I haven't."

"Hmm…" Harry said. "You're only 16 you know. _I'm_ still a virgin, too."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Malfoy doesn't count," Harry said.

Ron folded his arms. "I'm just sick of everyone running off with their little girlfriends and boyfriends to shag—and yes, Harry, Malfoy counts, so don't try to argue about it—and I'm stuck in the common room playing chess with myself."

"Or just playing with yourself in general."

"Harry!"

"Sorry."

"It isn't fair," Ron sighed.

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "What about Lavender?"

Ron sneered. "Ew. I'd rather kiss Moaning Myrtle than do it with Lavender."

"Oh," said Harry. "Well, listen, don't let it get to you. Ginny's only bragging. It's weird that she cares so much about your sex life, anyway."

"I suppose, but that still doesn't erase the fact that I'm not getting any."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You could if you really wanted to. You have Lavender, she's not bad looking."

"Yeah, girls like me. I mean, Pavarti asked me to fuck her once, but—"

"See!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron shrugged. "I just haven't been interested in any of the prospects."

"Hmmm…"

What?"

"It's just interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Well, it's just…I think I know how you feel. I used to feel that way about Cho."

"What did you do?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry cleared his throat. "I uh…I did…Malfoy."

"Well, I'm not doing _that_ with _him_," Ron said angrily. "It'd be nice if there was another guy I could shag."

Harry frowned. Pickings were a bit slim at Hogwarts. Draco was the only really good-looking one and Ron didn't want him.

"Neville's not bad," Harry offered.

"Neville!" Ron scoffed.

"Yeah, you're right," Harry said. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Harry. He turned to Ron, slowly, who was looking at Harry nervously as if the same idea had just occurred to him.

"You know, Ron," Harry started. "_I'm_ not bad looking."

Ron was silent for a time that felt like ages for Harry.

"Listen, it's just a thought," Harry added. Ron shook his head.

"That's weird, Harry, you're my best mate…"

"I know," Harry agreed. "But I mean…sorry, I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

Harry stood up, embarrassed, and left Ron alone for the rest of the night.

---

The next couple of days passed as usual, except Harry kept a bit quiet around Ron, and Ron was acting a bit less grumpy and a little more shy. In potions, they worked together as usual, but they hardly spoke.

"Can you just pass me that?" Harry asked quietly.

"Oh—sure," Ron replied, handing Harry a phial of purple liquid. The pair sort of half-smiled at each other and they ended up getting the potion right, both of them feeling pretty good about the results. Hermione was not blind to how odd the couple was acting toward each other, however. She caught up with Harry after class when Ron was dragged into a Quidditch conversation with Seamus.

"Did you and Ron get into a fight?" she asked.

"Why would you think that?"

Harry was given a look by Hermione that said: "I'm not the cleverest person in Gryffindor for no reason."

"Please, Harry," Hermione smirked. "I mean, not a real fight, because you're being much too civil for that."

"See then, we're not."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, if you need to talk about it, I'm here."

"There's nothing to talk about!" Harry exclaimed, but Hermione had already strutted away. Harry scowled and headed upstairs to the library—he had to do some research on a history paper and Hermione refused to help him until he at least had a rough copy finished. He found an empty seat and begrudgingly took out his textbook, parchment, and a quill.

"Haven't done it either?"

Ron appeared at Harry's side, a corner of his mouth lifting nervously.

"Nope," Harry said, moving his materials to the side and letting Ron sit down. Ron took out his things and the pair worked in silence for a little while.

"Sorry about…you know…" Harry finally said.

"No, no. Don't worry about it."

They glanced at each other and smiled.

"It was a weird idea," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. But…" He turned to his friend. "…but, brilliant, really."

"Brilliant?"

"Think about it. Like you said, we're best mates. I'd rather do it with you than a complete stranger." He turned back to his work.

"Are you reconsidering?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

"I guess so."

"Okay, well…when?"

"And where?"

"Where is easy. Leave that up to me."

"Okay. How about tonight when everyone else goes to bed?"

"Tonight!" Harry exclaimed.

"Okay…whenever…" Ron blushed.

"No, tonight's fine," Harry said.

---

"I'm glad that you two are talking though," Hermione noted much later that evening in the common room. It was near midnight, and they were the only ones left in the room. Hermione gathered her things.

"Don't stay up too late," she said, and walked off to the girls' dormitories.

Harry and Ron were alone now. Harry glanced over to Ron.

"Do you still want to?" he asked. Ron gulped and nodded, and together they stood up slowly.

"Where are we going?" Ron muttered as they crawled out of the portrait hole.

"Yes, where _are_ you going?" the Fat Lady asked.

"Shit, forgot the cloak," Harry whispered. "Wiggly Worm," he said to the Fat Lady.

"I thought so," the Lady said, opening up again. "Is your friend coming back too?"

Harry shrugged at Ron, who rolled his eyes and crawled back in.

After Harry collected his invisibility cloak, he and Ron crawled back out (with the Fat Lady calling around confusedly because she couldn't see who was leaving the common room).

"_Now_ can you tell me where we're going?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Sh, someone will hear us."

Harry lead Ron down a corridor close to the dungeon, and opened the door to a large bathroom. They threw the cloak off.

"I've been here," Ron said. "Second year, when we took that Polyjuice Potion."

"Yeah," Harry said. "No one comes here."

"Of course they don't. Moaning Myrtle."

"Forget about Myrtle."

Ron looked hesitant, but he just shrugged and decided to trust Harry—he'd been here more than Ron, anyway. Harry looked at Ron, who was looking around nervously, shuffling to his feet.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Harry asked. "Are you scared?"

"No," Ron said, a little too loudly. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped forward—Ron looked fearful, his eyes wide and his mouth pursed, like he was about to take his O.W.L.Ss.

"Listen Ron," Harry said. He stood face to face with Ron, who was a good three inches taller than he. "If you feel uncomfortable about this…"

"No," Ron said, leaning forward. "I don't."

All of a sudden, Ron's lips were on Harry's, and Harry responded eagerly, despite his surprise of Ron's sudden passion. Ron's lips were soft and warm and shockingly arousing to Harry—he put his fingers in Ron's hair instinctively, and Ron pushed Harry's slim body against a stall, pressing his own tall figure against him. Harry had never realized how muscular Ron was until now, when he was experiencing first hand the pressure of Ron's strong body. Their lips parted for a moment, with their bodies still pressed together. Ron opened his eyes and looked down at Harry.

"Well, what do you think?" Harry asked.

"I dunno," Ron mumbled. "It's different."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It is. With you."

They melted together again, and this time, Ron's tongue parted Harry's lips and timidly massaged Harry's mouth. Harry put his hands on Ron's waist and began to kiss him more feverishly, his fingers edging beneath Ron's shirt and up his stomach. The steady rhythm of Ron's breathing became more erratic and shuddered through Harry's body.

Suddenly, a splash of toilet tore the couple apart and Ron turned a fearful eye toward a stall.

"What's going on, here?"

A high-pitched voice evaporated from the ghost of a small girl who floated up from a toilet stall and over to them.

"We're just talking, Myrtle," Harry said.

"Oh?" she cooed. "Quite unusual. Most of the time, people come here to do _other_ things."

"Right, well that's great," Harry retorted. "You can leave us alone now."

"Hmph," Myrtle whined, her eyes darting between Harry and Ron. "Well, you're not the first boys to come here."

And with a wail, she dived back into a toilet bowl.

"Well that was embarrassing," Ron said, crossing his arms.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

He was surprised to see Ron look a little hurt.

"If you say so," said Ron, but Harry was convinced now by the look on Ron's face that he didn't want to leave, so he kissed Ron gingerly on the neck.

Ron pulled away.

"Sorry," he said. "The mood—it's a bit ruined."

---

Ron was in a sallow mood the next day, and it didn't help that he had to work with Harry again in potions. For his own good though, and to keep Hermione from nagging, Ron decided to suck it up and talk to Harry. He was still a little upset with him for choosing a spot that could be so easily disturbed.

So, he acted as if nothing had happened—as if nothing about Harry's touch had aroused him.

"Malfoy looks ridiculous today," Ron said. Harry laughed—ragging on Malfoy always cheered both of them up. And Malfoy _did_ look ridiculous today, wearing a brand new pair of bright emerald robes that were totally against regular dress code, but of course Malfoy thought it just made him look wicked.

"He's pathetic," Harry said. "He'll do anything for attention."

"Sh," Hermione warned. "Snape."

But it was too late. Snape had already glided over to their table and peered into their cauldron.

"I think you'd learn by now that mind chatter—and yes, it is mindless—will get you no where," he said in his dark, silky voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor, and an F for the day."

"That's rubbish!" Harry yelled. "We're not finished yet!"

Snape glared at him. "A detention for you, Potter." He glanced at Ron before walking away. "And you too, Weasley."

Malfoy was pointed and laughing at the two while they glared furiously at Snape, Ron's mouth open in protest.

"I told you," Hermione said later, rolling her eyes and gathering her things. "You two never learn."

"At least we stand up to him," Harry said, casting another glance at Snape as they left.

"Yeah Hermione," Ron mumbled. He turned to Harry. "I've got to go. Seamus is going to help me get some extra Quidditch practice in. I'll talk to you later."

"See you at dinner," Harry said.

Ron grunted. "Yeah, then it's straight back to the dungeon."

---

Things between Harry and Ron seemed to be getting back to normal, as if the fiery kiss between them in the bathroom had never happened. But of course—it had.

Harry and Ron's detention with Snape was immediately after dinner, and both of them had lost their appetite at the gloomy prospect. Harry wasn't so much nervous as he was angry—he had had enough detentions with Snape over the years to know what to expect. Ron, however, who had only had one detention in the past five years (and it was with Hagrid), looked very anxious.

"It's no worse than class," said Harry. "At least in detention he doesn't breathe down your neck."

Ron frowned. "That's even worse. When he's just sitting there…staring at you…"

Harry put his hand on the dungeon door. "Ready?"

"Get on with it."

A cold draft sent Harry uncomfortable chills as he opened the dungeon door and he and Ron walked inside the dark room. They looked around, puzzled. Professor Snape was no where to be seen.

"You're right, it _is_ better than class," said Ron, but he was glancing around nervously as if Snape would jump out at him any moment now.

"There's a message on the board," Harry said. They turned their direction toward the chalky, scribbled message: _Sit down. Shut up. Two hours._

The pair looked at each other and shrugged, and sat down at a front table.

"Do you think he'll know if we talk or not?" Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few moments, which gave Harry's mind time to wander. Unfortunately, it wandered to the kiss between he and Ron, and he suddenly felt both uncomfortably aroused and awkward. The silence became very loud, the air thick between them. His heart beat anxiously—he tried to push the memory out of his mind, but the touch of Ron's lips consumed him, the sensation of his bare skin lying innocently beneath his robes. He wanted to turn his head to look at Ron, but he felt very stiff and still, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his words got caught in his throat.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry exhaled in relief.

"Fine. I'm fine," he said, turning to face Ron. Ron's eyes were a big, light blue, and a small smile played on his lips. He needn't be nervous around Ron—he was, after all, his best mate, and being in Ron's presence now he felt completely comfortable and happy.

"Listen Harry," Ron said, "I hope things…" His voice trailed off and he looked away. "I just…"

"I know," Harry said. "Don't worry, Ron. Things won't change between us."

They smiled at each other.

"Guess I acted like a git," Ron said.

"No. It's my fault. I should have taken you somewhere more…secluded."

"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "But what's more secluded than Myrtle's bathroom? _No one_ goes there."

"Unless they want privacy," said Harry. "For some reason she never came out when Malfoy took me."

"Ew," Ron scowled.

Harry smiled slightly. "Sorry. Forget I mentioned him."

"Consider it forgotten," Ron said. He looked around the room. "Hm."

"What is it?"

Ron lowered his voice. "Myrtle's bathroom might be good for privacy, but look at where we are now. Snape isn't coming, and we have two hours to ourselves."

Harry considered this—Ron was right, Snape probably wouldn't show up. But he was surprised at Ron's suggestion—surprised in a good way. Before Harry could agree, Ron leaned into him, put a hand on his back, and pulled him into a deep kiss. Harry kissed him back, which felt natural to him now; he was completely void of reservations.

"Take off your robes," Ron mumbled, and Harry obeyed, stripping off his long black robes and placing them on the table behind them. Ron tugged his own robes off and kissed Harry again, running his hands through the mess of dark hair. When Harry felt Ron's hands tugging at his shirt, he took it off, goosebumps rising on his body (from excitement, not the cold) as Ron ran his warm hands over Harry's chest and arms. Harry kicked off his shoes.

This time when Ron went to kiss Harry, the chair tipped back and they fell onto the floor together.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, pushing the chair away.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, but Harry dismissed the apology and resumed their activities.

Ron nuzzled his nose into Harry's hair, his arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly—he tugged on Harry's zipper, and Harry obliged by helping him pull down his pants.

"Are you cold?" Ron asked, as if noticing for the first time that Harry was half-naked in a drafty dungeon.

"Just my back," Harry replied honestly, for his back was pressed against the hard, cold floor, but the rest of him was warm with the heat of Ron's body and his own racing pulse. He began to take off his friend's clothes, and it was when Ron's pants lay on the floor that Harry noticed his nervous expression.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Ron blushed, glancing down at himself—he might have been nervous, but he was definitely ready.

Harry slowly reached for Ron's erection, not wanting to be too forward, but Ron didn't mind the firm grip on his shaft at all. In fact, he welcomed it, moving closer to Harry and putting a warm hand on his waist, his fingers gripping Harry's side, his eyes closed and his mouth open to softly moan at the new ecstatic sensation. Harry's senses were a blur—all he was aware of was Ron's warm body and hot breath on his neck, and he ran his lips along Ron's jaw line, longing for another kiss. He felt, with much satisfaction, the hot precum trickling down his fist.

"Are you—would you like to—?" Harry breathed, his words escaping from his subconscious desires. Who knew that he had harbored such feelings about Ron? But how could he not? The beautiful blue eyes, the long crimson hair, and the array of ginger freckles made Ron seemingly irresistible—not to mention the purity of Ron's innocent "social" life.

Ron answered Harry's question by pulling down both his _and_ Harry's boxers and allowing Harry to pin him to the ground by his forearms, hungrily leaving a trail with his tongue along Ron's stomach. Harry's own erection pressed against Ron, teasing him, although Harry didn't really notice until a slight moan escaped Ron's parted lips.

"Do it, Harry," he said. Harry obliged—entering gently as not to startled Ron. He could tell that it hurt him at first, as Ron squeezed his eyes tightly together and dug his nails momentarily into Harry's arm, but in a moment he was kissing Harry again and working with his friend's sensual movements.

It felt so soothing to be with Ron this way; he had never shared his body with someone he completely trusted, with someone he felt so close to in other ways than just sexual. When Harry came, he clutched Ron's hair with his fingers, and Ron's knees buckled as he also released himself.

"Wow," Ron breathed. He glanced up at Harry. "Your glasses are all foggy."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to take those off."

Harry lifted himself off of Ron and wiped his glasses. All of a sudden, they heard movement from outside the dungeon. Both of them scrambled for their clothes.

"Snape!" Harry exclaimed, struggling to pull on the right shirts and pants. Harry tripped over his robes as he was pulling them on and fell onto the floor just as Snape came bursting through the dungeon doors.

"Potter! Why is it impossible for you to follow directions? The instructions were quite clear—_Sit down_ and shut up."

Harry scowled and sat down next to Ron and they sat out the rest of their detention in complete silence.

"You may go," Snape said at last. "But your further misconduct will cost you another detention." His eyes darted between the pair. "Both of you."

When they left the dungeon, Ron turned to Harry.

"Another detention won't be all bad," he said, grinning.

Harry grinned back. "Not bad at all."


End file.
